


As it Was

by svana_vrika



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bromance, Complete, Gen, Season/Series 06, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-06
Updated: 2011-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:36:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svana_vrika/pseuds/svana_vrika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam had meant it when he'd told Dean to quit- to stop hunting and have a life. But that had been then.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As it Was

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nina_nicky](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nina_nicky).



> Disclaimer: The following is written solely for fun, and no infringement is intended.
> 
> Written from the prompt _Sam being jealous of Lisa, because she gets to spend time with Dean, and then Sam finding out that Dean wasn't actually with Lisa but secretly spent all that time doing something for Sam_ , provided through a LiveJournal drabble post. Unbetaed. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> FYI: Season six spoiler alert

_Go find Lisa. Go find some normal, apple pie life…_

Sam had meant it when he had told Dean to quit- to stop hunting and to have a _life_. Yes, on the surface, he’d taken that swan dive into hell to save the world, but it had been the thought of giving Dean something he’d always wanted that had truly made it worth it. Dean had always given for him, sacrificed for him. And finally, after years of fuck ups and failures, Sam could truly give him something in return. A life free from death, darkness and danger. A life free from _him_. He could guarantee it to Dean, because Dean had promised. And Dean never broke his promises. Not to him.

But that had been then. 

He was back now; truly back, soul and all, and while he hadn’t anticipated it, not in a million years, it didn’t change the fact that he _was_. And like he had been when he’d found his dad’s journal so many years ago, he was scared and confused, only more so, because the monsters he couldn’t understand and didn’t want to believe in were his own. They weren’t descriptions and illustrations left in some musty, beaten book like a horrific faerie tale written in John’s sloppy hand. They lurked in the shadows of the darkest corners of his mind, taunting him with vague flashes of the heinous things he’d not only done, but had _enjoyed_. And Sam knew that the ones that had not yet revealed themselves were likely worse. He needed Dean to be there, just as he had been back then. Needed his reassurance and strength. Needed to hear the words that had echoed in his mind and soothed his soul as he’d plummeted into the pit. _It’s okay, Sammy, I’m here. I’m here. I’m not going to leave you._

But Dean wasn’t there. For the second night in a row, he was gone, leaving Sam in their crappy hotel room, downing cheap whisky like water and watching reruns on Casa Erotica in a desperate attempt to keep the monsters in his mind at bay. Sam wasn’t stupid. He knew where Dean was. There wasn’t a job within a hundred mile radius of their current location, but Lisa and Ben were just under an hour’s drive away, and last night, Dean’s jacket had borne subtle traces of Lisa’s perfume. Despite Dean having told him time and again that it was over, that it hadn’t worked out, he was _there_. And Sam hated her for it. He knew it wasn’t her fault. It was his. He’d told Dean to go to her, after all. But that had been when he’d thought he’d lost Dean anyway. However, Hell hadn’t proven a permanent gig, and now… now he just wanted things to be how they were. Just him and Dean, with nothing save for a few inches of scarred black vinyl between them as the Impala and Dean’s bad music carried them down whatever road life threw them on next. No bullshit, no lies, no Lisa. 

The subtle rumble of a Chevrolet 327 pulling into the parking lot came through the motel’s chintzy walls to announce Dean’s arrival. The key sounded in the lock shortly after, but Sam didn’t budge. His piece was within reach on the off chance it wasn’t his brother, but it was evident that it was. He could hear Dean’s crappy, off-tune singing through the door.

“Hey, Sammy.” Dean grinned and wiggled the bags he was carrying. “Got dinner. Who needs Betty Crocker when you got Mickey-D’s, right?”

“How’s Lisa?” 

Dean arched a brow as he set the bags down onto the table. “You’re welcome. And I don’t know, Dude. You know I haven’t talked to her in weeks.” 

Sam rolled his eyes as he tossed back another couple of swallows from his nearly empty bottle. “Whatever.” 

“Sam-“

“Stop it, Dean! Yeah, my head’s pretty messed right now, but I’m not some ghomed out half-wit, so stop treating me like one, alright? I know when I’m being lied to. Especially by you.” He turned away and lifted the bottle to his lips again, pretending not to notice the flicker of pain his accusation had sent through Dean’s eyes, even as he hated himself a bit more for it. That seemed to be all he _did_ any more. Cause Dean trouble and pain. 

“Sammy. _Sam!_ ” Dean’s hand came with the second call, a rough grab to his sleeve, and Sam stumbled slightly with the force Dean used to turn him around. He couldn’t even blame the whisky. Dean was smaller, but he was fast, and strong. Stronger than Sam. Stronger than he gave himself credit for. “Damn it, Sam, I’m not lying to you. I’ve not talked to Lisa in weeks.” He tightened his grip when Sam rolled his eyes and tried to turn away again. “I’ve been to the house, but they’re not even home. Ben’s on spring break. She’s taken him down to Disney.” He gave Sam one of those slightly forced, half smiles. “We were all gonna go, but you know… shit happens.” He let go of Sam’s sleeve. “Just wait here, alright? _Alright?_ ”

Sam blinked, pulling himself away from the absurd, yet heart-rending thought of Dean hanging with Mickey and Donald and riding _It’s a Small World, After All_ like a normal, ‘apple pie’ dad, and nodded, brows furrowing a moment later when Dean offered him the object he’d pulled from his pocket. “A butterfly knife?” 

“Not just any butterfly knife. _Your_ knife. I’d given to Ben after… well, you know. But now that you’re back, I thought you should have it again. Lisa and me…” He shook his head. “ _This_ is where I belong.” 

Sam’s brow arched as he took it, a small smile settling over his lips as he turned the slender, silver and black weapon over. The sight and weight of it in his hand brought older, more pleasant memories to the surface. Dean had given it to him the first time, too- a bribe (though Dean had called it a ‘thank you’) for not telling Dad about some girl he’d snuck out to see. Simpler times. “You risked a B&E for this? Twice? Dean, this thing cost like, ten bucks when it was new, and it’s close to twenty years old. I haven’t even _used_ it in years.” 

“Only once.” Sam gave him a look that clearly said he wasn’t following. “I only broke into the house once. Looked all over the joint, but couldn’t find it. So I headed to the storage shed out back. I saw a box with my name on it through the window, but before I could get inside, the neighbor’s dog started barking.” Dean scowled. “I hate that damn dog. I swear, Sammy, Cujo ain’t got nothing on those Yorkies. Lights were coming on, windows were opening...” He shrugged. “So I left and went back tonight. And there it was.” 

“It’s still breaking and entering, Dean.” But Sam was smiling, and after looking the old, worn, essentially useless knife over again, he slipped it into his pocket. “Thanks, man.” He was expecting Dean’s patented, ‘no chick flick moments’ look in return, but what he got was the comforting weight of his brother’s hand on his arm again. 

“We ain’t got much, Sammy. Just my baby, our gear and each other. Way I see it, we’ve left enough of ourselves scattered between Heaven, Earth and Hell. I’m gonna do what I can to make sure we don’t lose any more.” He slapped Sam’s arm then, and gave him a grin. “Now, how ‘bout some grub?” Before he could answer, Dean had turned back to the table and was rifling through one of the bag. “Aw, man! Fries are cold!” Not that it stopped him. He still took a handful and stuffed them into his mouth before giving Sam a potatoey grin and offering him the bag. 

Sam rolled his eyes again, but he was grinning too, and he snatched the bag from his brother and dropped down into one of the chairs as he looked inside. “Dude, seriously! Chicken nuggets? What am I, twelve?” But it didn’t matter. The monsters in his mind had retreated back into their shadows, for the time being. Dean was there, and even when he wasn’t, Sam was reassured that it was _him_ who stayed at the forefront of his brother’s mind. He wasn’t going anywhere. He had promised. And Dean never broke his promises. Not to him. For the moment at least, everything was as it should be. As it was.


End file.
